Aren't We All Running?
by Leigh Adams15
Summary: Atop the North Tower, two unlikely friends meet.


**Title:** Aren't We All Running?

**Author:** Leigh Adams

**Pairing(s):** Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson

**Word Count:** 2,231

**Rating:** PG-13

**Warnings:** None

**Betas:** Sam and Di

**Summary:** Atop the North Tower, two unlikely friends meet.

**Author's Notes:** First and foremost, I'd like to thank my two wonderful betas, the proverbial angel and devil on my shoulders, Sam and Di. I couldn't have done this without either one of you cheering me on via Gchat. You two really rock hardcore, and I'm lucky to have you both as friends! *snogs* This was a fun prompt to work with, and I hope you enjoy! The lyrics within come from the song Running Up That Hill by Placebo.

It was cold atop the North Tower. There was a harsh wind whistling over the castle from the highlands, whirling about the towers with a ferocity that seemed to echo the turmoil that lay within the castle walls. At the witching hour, all were abed save the professors; McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and their like patrolling the corridors, determined to keep the students safe from the Carrows' delicate attentions.

There was at least one brave—or stupid—enough to brave the elements atop the Astronomy Tower. From afar, Pansy Parkinson looked like a delicate china doll. Her long black hair whipped about her face in the wind, and her cheeks were tinged pink from the cold. Blue eyes gazed out over the castle landscape, searching for _something_ that wasn't quite there.

Seventh year was supposed to be inconsequential, full of enjoyable pursuits and very little schoolwork. NEWTs were of no concern to a girl such as her. Society awaited upon finishing Hogwarts; since her debut the winter prior, her father had received dozens of owls from potential suitors. Pansy Parkinson, the Queen of Slytherin, was in high demand.

Not that it mattered now. It hadn't mattered in months. Since her mother's murder, her father had slowly begun his descent into madness, leaving his daughter behind to brave the wreckage of her family and the turmoil of the war alone.

Draco was gone. Her mother was dead. And her father was enslaved to a madman, hell bent on destroying everything.

Pansy couldn't bring herself to care about anything anymore. It was why she ignored the rules, flouted curfew; even though she was supposed to set an example as Head Girl, she didn't. The Carrows couldn't touch her—_wouldn't_, for fear of retaliation—and Snape, oddly enough, left her alone.

Footsteps sounded behind her, but she didn't reach for her wand. She didn't even bother to look behind her to see who it was. There was at least one thing she could depend on; or rather, one _person_.

"You shouldn't be here."

_**You don't wanna hurt me**_

"You say that every time."

"Because it's true," Pansy replied. Pulling her gaze away from the lake, she turned to face her midnight companion. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled sharply at the sight of him, his face even disfigured since she'd last seen him. "What the hell did you do this time?"

Neville's lips curled upwards as he gave a small half-shrug. "What do you think?"

"I'm sure that, being the intelligent Gryffindor you are, you mouthed off to one of the Carrows again," she snapped peevishly, lips pursed in annoyance. "You're going to get yourself killed some day."

"You say that every time," he repeated.

Pansy rolled her eyes and crooked a finger at him. "Because it's true. Get over here and let me have a look at it."

Hands in his pockets, Neville ambled across the rooftop towards her. Upon closer inspection, the moonlight showed the true damage in sharp relief; his left eye was nearly swollen shut and a nasty, jagged cut ran over his cheek. Dark red blood dripped out of his nose, landing in the snow below with a soft 'plop.'

Pulling her wand out of her mink-lined winter robe, Pansy waved it over his eye and murmured a few healing charms. "You're lucky they've yet to use you for curse practice," she commented, lifting one dark brow at him, as if daring him to cross her.

"That's me, lucky Longbottom," Neville replied with an easy smile, eyes gleaming with mirth as he looked down at her.

She sniffed at him. "Just for that, I should let you bleed to death in the snow."

Neville snorted and pulled out a handkerchief, the initials 'FL' embroidered in red thread in one corner. "I doubt I'm going to die from a nosebleed, Pansy."

"I could help speed the process along," she threatened, but there was a decided lack of heat behind her words. She turned her back on him again, looking out towards the highlands and Hogsmeade once more. "Why do you keep doing this?"

_**But see how deep the bullet lies**_

She didn't look over when she felt him move to stand next to her on the railing. She didn't have to see him to know that his brow was knit with concentration, thinking about her question, his gloved hands resting on the wall of stones that surrounded the circumference of the tower.

"Why do I keep doing this? I dunno, I suppose it's because I like your company."

"Not that!" she snapped, shooting him a look out of the corner of her eye. "You keep running round that question, and I think I deserve a bloody answer! Why do you insist on taunting the Carrows? You're practically _asking_ for the Cruciatus."

Neville stiffened, and Pansy immediately felt a sense of shame wash over her. She knew about his parents; everyone did, now. "I'm sorry, Neville, I didn't mean it like that."

Neville was quiet for a long while, staring with unseeing eyes off into the distance. When he finally spoke, his words were soft but resolute.

"That's why I do it," he said, looking over at her. "My parents gave up their sanity for a cause they were willing to die for. They did it to protect _me_. Someone's got to do it for the younger years."

"What about McGonagall? Sprout? Flitwick? Even Slughorn, slippery as he is. They'd all die to protect the little ones," Pansy retorted hotly. "Why does it have to be _you_?"

"The professors aren't enough," he reminded her gently. "With Harry gone-"

"Oh, is that your plan? To be the next Harry bloody Potter?" Pansy shot back, blue eyes dark with agitation as she pushed away from the wall. She paced across the small tower, arms crossed firmly over her chest to ward away the stupidity, irritation plainly written on her features.

"I didn't say that." Neville, fortunately, had the good sense to let her prowl back and forth without interrupting. "But someone's got to stand up to them, Pansy. Torturing students, preaching violence; it isn't _right_."

"There are many, many things in this world that aren't _right_," she sneered, whirling about to face him. "That doesn't mean that you have to be so, so… _noble_ about it all!"

_**Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder**_

"That's me, noble Neville," he replied with a wry grin, lips curling upwards. His attempt at humor was lost on Pansy, though, as she continued to pace the diameter of the snowy ground, her black robes billowing about her, reminding him of Snape. He couldn't help but laugh softly; if she knew the comparison he'd just made, she'd be _most_ put out at him. "Pansy, calm down and come back over here."

"Do _not_ tell me to calm down," she groused, shooting a glare at him. "You're the one who insists on riling up maniacal Death Eaters."

"I would hardly call standing up for an eleven year-old 'riling up'," Neville commented dryly.

"Yes, well, you Gryffindors were never the brightest of stars," Pansy muttered. Her ire seemed to be dying down, though, as her pace decreased until she took her former place on the wall next to him. She sighed, and the imprint of it hung in the air before dissipating into nothingness.

In truth, it weighed heavily on her, Neville's actions and the consequences he suffered. The Carrows were mad as a hatter and stupid to boot. They liked using force on the students; it made them feel powerful—the power the Dark Lord had denied them. They were faithful, yes, but those who comprised his inner circle had to be more than faithful; they had to be smart.

And then there was the matter of what would happen after this was all over. The Order of the Phoenix or the Dark Lord would win; either way, the future looked bleak for Pansy. If Neville's ilk won, she'd be treated as an outcast, the daughter of a Death Eater and known pureblood enthusiast. And if the Dark Lord won, she'd be treated as a trophy, auctioned off to the highest bidder to help maintain the pure blood of the wizarding hierarchy.

"I don't want to lose you, Neville," she said softly, in a rare moment of honesty. She felt him start at her words, and when she glanced up at him, her blue eyes were unguarded. "I've already lost Draco and my mother. My father is good as gone. _Please_, don't do this anymore."

Her voice trailed off to a whisper, and she pulled her gaze away and back to the lake as she said, "I can't protect you from them."

The gentle pressure of his fingertips under her chin forced her to look back at him. Kind, sweet Neville, who'd persisted in their friendship despite the numerous barbs and roadblocks she'd thrown at him. Neville, who would never hurt her. Who would never leave her. "You don't have to protect me, Pansy," he murmured, his tone unerringly soothing. "I… let me protect _you_."

One dark brow rose in question at his words. "What do you mean?"

Neville grinned, a pure flash of white teeth in the darkness, and that act was so innocent, so unlike anything seen in Slytherin house, that its joviality was nearly infectious. _Nearly_. "Come with me."

_**There's a thunder in our hearts, baby**_

"What are you on about, Neville?" she asked sharply.

"I'm not going back to classes anymore, Pansy," he said simply. The hand that had been underneath her chin fell, and he reached for her glove-encased hand. "I've found a spot to hide. Somewhere the Carrows and Snape can't get to. We'll be safe there."

She shook her head, sending a flurry of snowflakes that landed in her hair out into the air. "Where?"

"The Room of Requirement," Neville answered, his smile growing as he bounced in excitement. "It's perfect for a hideout. I don't know why it's taken me so long to think of it, but it doesn't matter now. You won't have to worry anymore. I'll take care of you."

The last person who'd said that was Merlin-only-knew-where. Draco had promised to protect her when they were children, and look where he was now; locked scared in Malfoy Manor with a metaphorical pendulum hanging over his neck, cowering from the Dark Lord.

"That room isn't infallible," she reminded him. "It would only be a matter of time before you're found out."

Neville shook his head. "No, I'm confident they won't. That'd take more brainpower than the Carrows are capable of."

Pansy gave a delicate snort. "Neville, the Carrows might be stupid, but they're tenacious. If you keep these midnight hijinks up, they _will_ find you. And I…" she trailed off, unable to finish. _And I don't know what they'll do to you when they do._

"Pansy." The way he said her name, his tone so serious and intense, gave her pause, made her look up into his eyes. The dark orbs were pleading with her, practically _begging_ her to stay with him. "Please, just this once… let me in. Let me protect you."

A sharp pang resounded in her chest; emotions she didn't know she was capable of flooding her system. _Heartbreak?_

Here, with Neville, it was so easy to believe him; that everything would be alright and end well. That she would be safe with him. But the thing was, Pansy would never be safe. No matter what happened, there was no happy ending. His friends would never accept her, and going into hiding would only make him an even bigger target. If her father found out about Neville...

He'd have him killed.

A tear fell down her cheek, leaving an icy path in its wake. Neville was good, and pure, and light; he didn't deserve the pain she would only inflict upon him.

And she didn't deserve _him_.

Reaching up, she cupped his cheek with one gloved hand and leaned closer, pressing her lips against his in a soft kiss.

Neville was startled for a moment before instinct kicked in. His free arm encircled her waist, drawing her closer to him, and his tongue traced the seam of her lips, imploring her to open for him. She did, willingly, looping her arms around his neck as she allowed herself this one last moment with him.

The chance to say goodbye.

After a few long, breathless moments, Neville pulled back and let his forehead rest against hers. Their breaths mingled in the minute space between them, fogging in the cold air.

"_Please, Pansy_," he whispered.

Pansy blinked, letting a few more tears trickle down her cheeks as she leaned in for one final kiss. She could taste the sweetness of Neville's lips- _peppermint_- mingled with the salt of her own tears; a bittersweet medley.

"You can't protect me," she murmured softly. "No one can."

It was with great reluctance that she pulled out of his arms. She let her eyes linger on his face, drinking him in for one, final time. It was only fitting that their first kiss would be their last; they had only been fooling themselves.

"Goodbye, Neville," she whispered, and as the tears started to fall freely, she swept away from him and back into the depths of the castle.

_**And if I only could make a deal with God **_

_**And get him to swap our places...**_


End file.
